


a kiss for each star in the sky

by tranz



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Talentswap (Dangan Ronpa), F/F, Fluff, M/M, a bunch of oneshots piled into one chapter, rated T for iruma miu's existence mostly, there is not a single f/m ship in this i just realized tagging this. oops.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tranz/pseuds/tranz
Summary: an old fic from 2018 i never posted. fixed up the writing and added two new ships! takes place in a talentswap AU of mine
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Iruma Miu, Amami Rantaro/Shinguji Korekiyo, Chabashira Tenko/Yumeno Himiko, Harukawa Maki/Shirogane Tsumugi, K1-B0/Saihara Shuichi, Momota Kaito/Oma Kokichi
Kudos: 28





	a kiss for each star in the sky

Stars illuminate the world below, shining bright against the pitch black expanse of the night sky. The deep hues could put anyone in a trance, the visible constellations providing a breathtaking view.

The trio sitting below the moon don’t occupy themselves with stargazing though. At least, not at the moment.

“Tenko  _ told _ Momota-san not to run so fast! Don't you have  _ any _ spare shoes that aren't sandals?” She questions, placing her hands on her hips.

Momota laughs from his spot on the bench, Ouma seated on the cobblestone of the courtyard. “I get the concern, but it's chill, Chabashira.” He gives her a thumbs up. “What kinda man would I be if I agonized over a scratch?”

Ouma sighs, rolling the leg of Momota's hakama up with no warning, causing the aikido master to flinch in surprise. “Nonetheless, I don't think you should give  _ poor _ old Shirogane-chan any extra work by making her wash your bloody disco pants!”

Momota sputters, yelling that  _ they're not disco pants _ , Tenko humming with amusement as Ouma ignores him instead, reaching into the pocket of his apron.

He pulls out a packet of bandaids and slides it open, holding it up to Momota's face. “Pick one.”

Momota furrows his brows. A  _ Sailor Moon _ bandaid, one with a checkered design,  _ Hello Kitty _ , another bandaid with pastel-colored sweets printed all over it, and the hero  _ Spiderman _ .

Tenko rushes to his side. “ _ Oh,  _ pick Sailor Moon! It would be  _ my _ honor if Tsukino-san ever healed me during battle! Wah, even being in battle, side-by-side with Sailor Moon...” She sighs dreamily, pressing a hand to her chest.

Momota chuckles, before reluctantly picking out the checkered bandaid. “Figured I'd save it for you?” He smiles at the swooning astronaut.

Pausing her swooning, she raises an eyebrow and huffs, turning away. 

“Whatever, it’s not like I’ll thank a degenerate male! But… well… if such a beautiful hero was slapped onto a degenerate knee, Tenko would never forgive herself for letting it happen. So good call, Momota-san.”

Ouma scoffs, slipping a baby wipe from his pocket with a roll of his eyes and dabbing at Momota's scratch gently. “So glad I get to hang out with the peanut gallery at night!”

The boy hisses. “O-Oi, that stings…” He growls, a laugh tearing from Ouma's throat, one careful wipe before discarding the blood stained tissue back in his pocket.

“Wow, it's like I'm treating an  _ actual _ baby's wound. Didn't you say your tolerance for pain was high?” Ouma sticks his tongue out.

Tenko scoffs. “Did he really? Tenko doubts that's even remotely true! Degenerates  _ always _ lie to seem tough.”

The aikido master sputters, making sure not to move his knee too much. “H-Hey, fuck off! J-Just because I'm a super badass and heroic martial artist ain't mean anything compared to the sting of those devil wipes!”

“Sure, sure. You know I hate liars, Momota-chan. Do you  _ waaaant _ me to hate you?” He blinks up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Don't answer it, I already know!”

Tenko’s laughter fills the air, and Momota clicks his tongue. Ouma finally places the bandaid over his scratch, pressing down with his fingers before leaning back slightly to observe his handiwork.

“ _ Phew _ , the caregiver saves the day once again. Ain't that right?” Momota grins at the astronaut.

Tenko crosses her arms. “When did Ouma-san ever save it before?”

Before Momota could respond, the feeling of lips pressing over his bandaid surprises him, and he snaps down to look at the caregiver in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. Tenko lets out a sound out of her throat that she didn’t know was there.

No, she's  _ definitely _ not mistaken when she notices Ouma's face redden after he realizes what he's done.

“...the kids said this made them feel better. It was- it was instinct--” He excuses, but it's cut off when Momota's hand reaches down to ruffle his hair.

“That's so damn cute, Ouma.”

Tenko swears she hears the gradual whistle of an overheating kettle.

-

“ _ Y-Yumeno-san! _ ” 

The robot had just tripped and fell after she messed up the walk cycle. She lets out an  _ oof _ as the sound of running feet approaches her. Tenko kneels down to take her hand and help her up.

“Nnnyeh…” Yumeno groans, rubbing the back of her neck after the astronaut leads her back up. “Thanks, Chabashira, but I was fine there… the floor was comfy, I nearly fell asleep…” 

When the robot woke up in this hell of a school, she realized she didn’t come with the battery required to keep her aware of her surroundings. Now she’s mostly been what humans can describe as sluggish and tired, keeping her distance from the others.

The astronaut never left her alone though. Sometimes, it annoyed her. Other times… it made her feel a thrum of energy in her systems. She felt… happy around the astronaut. The robot was bad at showing it.

Tenko’s hearty laugh breaks her out of her thoughts.

“ _ Huhuhu! _ It's not a problem, Tenko's willing to help Yumeno-san with  _ anything _ she asks of her!” Yumeno grumbles at this, but Tenko's smile fades. “Besides, Tenko couldn't live with herself if Yumeno-san caught a cold or got stepped on by a degenerate male…”

Tenko shudders at the thought. Yumeno doesn't reply, knowing it's biologically impossible for her to really get a  _ cold.  _ She supposes that they haven’t even found out about her true nature yet.

“Nnnneh, I guess you’re right… but ‘s just hard to resist closing my eyes. That’s why I shuffle cards… ‘s a stim that keeps me awake by using my hands.” Her lips quirk into a lazy smile when Tenko nods as if she’s been given sage advice.

“Wow! That’s amazing, Yumeno-san!” 

“It really isn’t…”

“W-Well, either way, umm… if Yumeno-san is ever feeling sleepy, she can always rely on Tenko to help her to a nice comfortable bed! A-And, you know, I tuck you in and say goodnight! Like a g-good friend would!” The girl is blushing, giving her a big, nervous smile. Her cheeks might as well be as red as the robot's hair.

Tenko's cheeks…

Yumeno blinks… and feels that thrum of energy again. Before she stops to think about it, she pulls down Tenko’s arm to smush her lips against her cheek, too caught up to regard the squawk the taller girl lets out. 

When the short girl pulls away, she feels something inside of her begin to warm up from seeing Tenko's red, starstruck face. The cheek kiss was inexperienced and lazy and, in Yumeno’s opinion, embarrassing. 

But the face she makes is worth the embarrassment.

“W-Well,” Yumeno purses her lips. “m’ gonna go nap in my bed now… see you around, Chabashira…”

Walking away tiredly, she hears a progressive squeal rising in octaves behind her as Tenko realizes what just happened.

“Nyeh…” Yumeno scratches her cheek. “That was unlike me… no use worrying about it…”

-

Iruma throws a tennis ball against the wall of her lab, bouncing back and catching it midair. Grumbling boredly, the only sound in her lab is the ball thumping dully against the wall, and Akamatsu shifting through the piles of tennis rackets piled against the opposite wall.

“Fuck it,” Iruma huffs, throwing the ball and letting it bounce past her. “ _ Oi _ , Bakamatsu!” 

Stomping towards the anthropologist, she notices Akamatsu lightly running the tips of her fingers against the strings of a racket. “The fuck are you doing…? Oh, I see!” She grins cheekily. “The long, hard handle of my racket is gettin’ you all hot and bothered, right?”

Akamatsu turns her head to fix Iruma with a stern glare, the girl in question immediately shrivels in shame.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m just studying the model of it, seeing what types you have… they’re all so different around the world, after all.” She says, holding up the one she was observing.

Iruma grumbles, plucking at a string and listening to it’s dull, brief thrum when she releases it. Akamatsu smiles that _sweet lil’ smile_ _of hers_ and it makes Iruma wanna punch it off her face. With her own face, maybe. 

The tennis pro turns away haughtily. “Y-Yeah? So is kissing and fucking! Ain't much of a difference. I’m a pro at holding all sorts of rods!”

Akamatsu goes silent. “Kyakya! Did I get’cha with that? Bet a dirty bird like you is thirsty for some new bed positions other than missionary with your otaku boytoy!”

She cackles loudly, and Akamatsu bawks, scrambling to get up and yelling in her defense, “A-Are you talking about  _ Saihara-kun _ ? Because we're only friends! You shouldn't say stuff like that…” She crosses her arms with a pout.

Iruma raises a brow. “Oh yeah?” She challenges. “Make me. Not like a pancake titty virgin can tell me what to d--”

Hands fist into the straps of her tank top, and Iruma will vow to forget the squeak she let out.

Soft lips press against hers with no warning, and she squeals as her face burns. Hands rest at her shoulders, making Iruma feel like putty in her hands. 

Before she even gets a chance to get her hands on the anthropologist, Akamatsu pulls back, face hot from the embarrassment. “I-I… got ahead of myself,” she clears her throat, grinning back at Iruma. “But, it got you to be quiet, right?”

Trembling, the tennis player bats her eyes. They dart around the room as she lifts a hand to shyly twirl a long strand of her own hair around her finger.

“Y-You’re gonna have to, ah… g-gag me and rough me up to get what you want, B-Bakamatsu…” She bites her lip.

Akamatsu sighs, hands falling to her sides and walking past her. “Well, I'll be leaving. Bye, Iruma-san, this was a fun anthropology session!!”

“ _ N-No, wait--!” _ Iruma chased after her. “I  _ need _ you, Akamatsu! I'm so ready for your r-racket!”

-

Saihara knows he's not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve very often. He can't be considered a  _ kuudere _ , but he was quiet, reserved, and very insecure.

But… ah, the amazing mecha cosplay Kiibo had assisted him with turned out  _ beautifully _ , he was unable to tear his eyes from it.

“It was simple, really,” Kiibo boasted humbly, puffing his chest out in pride after catching Saihara's ecstatic expression. “I simply created the parts you had sketched yourself, and connected them and installed batteries after creating their motion! You see, it's called--”

“I… I-I love it, Kiibo-kun!” He laughs quietly, turning to the shorter inventor. “It's so-- so  _ amazing _ I could just  _ kiss _ you--!”

He claps a hand over his mouth immediately after realizing what he said, Kiibo shutting his mouth to stare at him, dumbfounded.

He turns away. “W-Well, no, I wouldn't  _ kiss  _ you, b-but… uh, well…” He sputters. “Kissing seems a bit  _ much _ , but...”

Saihara trails off, clutching his shirt anxiously.

“Saihara-kun, it’s--”

_ Fuck it _ .

He moves forward to clumsily bump his lips against Kiibo’s forehead, eyes squeezed shut and face hot with embarrassment. Kiibo stiffens, eyes going wide and electricity shoots through his veins.

“A-Anyway,” Saihara smiles sheepishly as he quickly pulls back. “Um… would you like to show me how it works?” He asks, gesturing to the mechanical cosplay.

Kiibo blinks, cheeks red as he touches the spot Saihara's lips touched. Pulling his hand away, the swell of pride was apparent in the way he puffed out his chest, hands at his hips.

“Of course, Saihara-kun!” He beams, before moving to walk the cosplayer through the basics.

-

Ouma wriggled in Momota's grasp, sweat beading at his forehead once he struggled on the grass.

They had decided to do training with just the two of them when Tenko had let them know she'd be hanging out with Yumeno that night.

Ouma had grown a bit stronger since they began this whole training thing, and while he wasn't physically inclined to flip or pin anyone down, he was definitely slippery.

_ Definitely _ too quick to catch easily.

“Oi… c'mon,” Momota grunts as he attempts to pin Ouma down, who only snickers breathily when his thin wrist snaked up to tug at his goatee. “Hey, that  _ hurt _ \-- you're playin’ dirty!”

His hand shoots to grab his shoulder, but the caregiver rolls himself just out of the line of fire. 

“ _ I'm _ playing dirty?” Ouma asks incredulously, pushing Momota by the shoulders to successfully stun him for a moment. “ _ Ha, _ says th-the guy,  _ ow,”  _ He hisses when Momota pinches his nose, and he slaps the hand away. “Who's pinning me down against the grass and grunting in public!”

Momota hisses a swear under his breath at that accusation, cheeks going red and letting go of Ouma completely to sit back and rub at his neck.

“I-I guess you could see it like that, so, I'll just back off--”

Ouma grins. “That was a lie!” He pounced forward to topple Momota to the ground, who let out a loud yelp of surprise.

Ouma puffs a strand of hair out of his face as he pins Momota down against the grass.

“I pinned you.”

His lips stretch into a pleased grin, and Momota sighs, pushing his bangs out of his face to chuckle lightly. “Guess you did. Not bad, Kokichi.”

He stretches his arm to flick Ouma's nose, who retaliates from the action to rub at it. Sniffling, his eyes trail down to look Momota in the eyes, filled with warmth and fondness. The caregiver curses himself inwardly for letting the two of them get so attached, but also…

... _ also, I’m gay. So maybe shut up, me? _

Blinking, he doesn't notice leaning down to press his soft lips against Momota's chapped ones, goatee tickling his chin slightly as the kiss deepens.

Momota wraps his arms around Ouma's waist to pull him close, and their lips move lazily against each other until the taller boy pulls away to pepper kisses along his jaw and neck.

Ouma hums, moving his head to give Momota more opportunity to do what he wants. “I-I guess a makeout session is gonna be my reward for pinning you?” He snickers.

He feels himself freeze, when a warm hand rests at his hip, eyes moving to find Momota looking right at him with a frustrated look.

He mumbles, “I'd reward you with a lot more if we weren't in the freezing fucking cold outside.” 

Ouma pecks Momota on the lips. “Lead the way to the dorms then!” He sings, standing up to help Momota off the grass.

The aikido master is more than willing.

-

Shirogane stood outside the door of the Ultimate Detective’s talent lab holding a silver platter, a plate full of specially baked cookies on top. “Harukawa-saaan, the cookies you requested are here. I know you like to keep your lab private, though, so I’ll set them…”

Before she can finish, the door clicks and opens slowly to reveal the detective.

“Oh, you can come in with those.” She says casually, leaving the door open for the maid, who smiled and walked right into the lab with thinly-veiled eagerness. The detective sits down at her desk, crossing one leg over the other.

“They’re like sugar cookies! And I carved them in the shape of Conan just because he reminds me of you! Oh-- not because you’re… well,” Shirogane’s words fumble when Harukawa gives her a tired look. “Anyways, try one, they’re quite delicious, I had Tojo-san try one!”

“Considering you’re the Ultimate Maid, I think I’ll take my chances.” Her lips quirk up at one side as she reaches a gloved hand to grab a cookie and take a bite. Her stony aura fades as the sweetness hits her.

Shirogane coos. “I’m so glad you think they’re good, Harukawa-san!”

The detective pauses for a moment, and then rubs at her face. “I-I didn’t say anything yet…”

“I am the Ultimate Maid, Harukawa-san. My eyes have been trained to spot pure satisfaction in all my clients!” She adjusts her glasses. “You see, I’m plainly one hell of a butler.”

The detective deadpans, tilting her head.

“That wasn’t another reference, right? You know, I think you and that cosplayer would get along.” 

Shirogane hums, holding the silver platter between her arms and body. “Saihara-kun? Yes, we do get along pretty well, I suppose. I’m mostly busy cleaning the school and cooking meals to hang out with him as much as I’d like to. I suppose we could share interests.” She hums, holding a hand up to her cheek.

Humming, Harukawa leans over to grab another cookie, nibbling on it slowly this time. “...do you ever taste your own baking, Shirogane?”

The maid nods. “Not all the time. I am mostly making pastries for others, since I’m not one for sweets.”

The detective nods. “Mhm.”

“Why do you ask?”

“If you’re not one for sweets, I… still think you should taste one. Come over here.” She averts her red eyes, chin resting on her palm as she gestures with her free hand to beckon the maid, who approaches, blushing.

Harukawa takes a bite of a cookie. “You are very nice, Harukawa-san, but you don’t have to feel obligated to--” She wraps a hand around the maid’s orange tie and tugs her down till their lips connect.

She knew the chances she took were right when Shirogane lets out a noise of surprise, before quickly melting, Harukawa could feel how warm her cheeks were beneath her gloves when their tongues briefly brushed, transferring the cookie.

The blue-haired girl slowly pulls away, obviously surprised, but also really enjoying what’s happening. “I-I… well… thank you, Harukawa-san, I think… you opened me up to sweets a little more today.”

The detective is flushing in second-hand embarrassment at her own self. She’s lucky the pretty maid was so into writing tropes or that would’ve been dumb as hell with anyone else… not like she’d wanna kiss anyone else here.

“Yeah… uh, thank you for the sweets.”

-

Amami has been staring a hole in his head since they arrived at this prison academy. Shinguuji isn’t stupid though… the man is an alleged ‘supreme leader,’ he was bound to have some kind of crazy intellect to him. He just didn’t expect him to narrow him down so quickly.

When Shinguuji introduced himself as someone who cannot remember their talent, everyone took it as face value. Humans are easy to manipulate when they assume you are an ally immediately. Yes, stuck in the same situation, but not a friend.

He was a killer. The Ultimate Assassin would be more befitting of his title than a couple of question marks. It’s not like he took pleasure in taking life, but it’s a truth about himself he wont turn away from.

All to protect his older sister, and for what? The very orphanage he worked for let her die anyways. He wanted to protect the only family he had left.

Now he’s stuck…  _ here _ , in a game where the goal is his specialty, and he’s stuck with a bunch of jerks who make it hard to kill them with no strings attached.

Doesn’t help that Amami is currently making his way towards him--  _ has he been standing here in the gym stuck in his thoughts for that long? _ \-- and he stops, hands slipping into his pockets.

“Lost in thought? Monokuma left a while ago already.” He smiles. “What are you thinking about, Shinguuji-kun?”

“A supreme leader such as yourself wants to know everything, yes?” The boy crosses his arms. “Truly, there is much to get caught up in thinking about, being in this place.”

Amami laughs quietly, and turns to the exit. “We should head somewhere else instead of standing here, yeah?” The man turns on his heel and strides out of the gym without waiting, and Shinguuji raises a brow as he moves to keep up with him.

“Your organization… you say it’s knowledgeable. Are you hired hitmen?” He regards the supreme leader with curiosity, but is put off when the other boy laughs at the accusation, lifting a hand covered in rings to cover his mouth.

“Aha! No, the organization isn’t founded on that kinda stuff. It’s more… well, it probably wouldn’t do me any good to go blabbing about it, right? We are in the presence of a renowned detective…” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and Shinguuji purses his lips.

“And you believe me to snitch?”

“Well… I didn’t take you as someone who keeps promises and regards truth so highly.” Amami smirks as he leans in until their noses are almost touching, and Shinguuji has to fight the urge to cut his throat where he stands, along with the urge to close the short gap between them.

Shinguuji doesn’t waver. “...truthfully, no, I do not value these in most cases. But I’m not interested in working with the likes of a detective either.” He twirls a strand of his hair between his fingers. “Harukawa-san is… impulsive and foolish to a degree.”

The usual breath of laughter ghosts over the assassin’s cheek this time, before Amami pulls away to scratch the back of his head. “Ahaha, not a fan of law enforcement? I guess we’re the same, deep down.”

_ Is that so. _ He thinks to himself.

“So then, will you talk about yourself now?” The long-haired boy tilts his head, his lips tugging at the corners just a bit. A hand comes up to caress through a lock of hair, before bringing it up between his fingers and pressing a kiss to the dark silky hair.

“I think I’ll make some time. Who knows, maybe we’ll have more in common than we thought?”


End file.
